This Threshold
by LittleKnux2008
Summary: Written for the '05 McWeir ficathon. Elizabeth Weir, mulling over her lonely leadership at the Antartic outpost, finds a potential friend in the unlikeliest of places.


**Author's Note: **This was written for the McKay/Weir ficathonwith four specifications: Elizabeth's perspective, a new understanding of Rodney, a meal together, and eavesdropping on a conversation. This was written about three months ago, but I'd forgotten to post it here. Anyway, hope you enjoy!  
**Spoilers: **None; pre-"Rising" story.

* * *

Between managing the Ancient outpost and handpicking members to go with me on the expedition, I've hardly had any time to myself, let alone time to sit down in the cafeteria and have a meal. Usually my feast consists of a quick granola bar or the like between meetings and interviews. I'd really begun to miss the formality of actually getting real food and sitting down at a real table. So maybe the food was just whatever the military could afford to ship, and maybe the tables were plastic and cheap, but it seemed like heaven compared to my usual dining.

Or at least in theory. By the time I've gotten my food from the line and found a seat at an empty table, the stares and whispers have already started. Last month, they'd finally died down. Everyone had gotten over the fact that I was the one in charge and they had begun to accept my leadership. But now that they knew I was picking people to go to Atlantis, they'd started up again. Sighing, I forked some of my salad, appetite dwindling. Unbidden, a conversation washed over me.

"I don't understand why General O'Neill picked her to be the expedition leader."

"She's been leading around here just fine, Airman."

"That doesn't make her the prime choice for a military operation. She'll have to make military decisions. No doubt she'll pick favorites to go with her."

"You're just mad because you won't be picked," his companion scoffed. "And anyway, rumor is that there will be someone to oversee the military presence."

"They'll have a heck of a job; keeping her in line. Women think with their hearts, not their brains," the first man retorted, "if they even have brains."

I looked directly over to their table with a glare that could kill, but the airman took no notice. Apparently we civilians don't have such military superpowers such as hearing. Seriously, what age are we living in? Women are just as capable as men; some men are just too pig-headed to realize that. I brushed the conversation aside with a mental note to make sure the airman wasn't on the list of people to go to Atlantis. Temper issues, I excused; he wouldn't be suitable for high-stress situations.

Munching on my salad, I started to ponder on why so many of these people didn't think I was a fit leader. Quickly, I changed topics. It was stupid to think that everyone would be approving, and the reasons that they didn't like my leadership were so dense that it only served to fuel my anger. I have more important things to worry about.

Before I could immerse myself in my thoughts, someone's tray plopped down at the table. I couldn't stop the sigh from escaping my mouth as I looked up to see who was invading onto my privacy. It took me until the time that he'd sat down and hungrily shoveled the first forkful of food into his mouth for me to realize that I wasn't hallucinating: Rodney McKay was really sitting in front of me.

"Mmm. Military rations," he said through a full mouth. I couldn't help but stare as he ate the food with delight. Not that I hated the military food; I'd just never seen anyone take so much delight. But he ate away, looking suspiciously satisfied with the food. Maybe a better word for 'ate' would be 'inhaled'. I haven't taken a single bite of my salad since he sat down and he's nearly half done with his meal. Sighing, I forked a few leaves of lettuce, all the while wondering why Rodney was sitting across from me. He is Rodney McKay! Not that I know him; but the things I've heard about him certainly haven't painted a portrait of a companionable man.

"I don't mean to be rude," I said, after swallowing my food, "but why are you sitting here?"

He looked uncertain for a second, but the expression was quickly replaced. "You looked like you needed some company," he answered, and looked back down at his food. I looked like I needed company? I mulled the thought over in my head. I suppose it was true. It does get awfully lonely; being the leader of something. Everyone is below your command and every action you make is scrutinized by them, critiqued by them. Still, I had a weird feeling that there was an ulterior motive to this.

"If you're looking to get your name on the list of the expedition, just go," I told him. A little part of me had gotten up the hopes that someone, heck, even Rodney, had actually come near me to talk to me as a friend, and it gave a painful tug when I realized logically that this had to be the reason he was sitting here.

His reaction, however, surprised me. He scoffed, his face conveying his disbelief. "You think I'm here for that?" I fully expected a rant about virtues, but again he surprised me. "I know I'm on that list. I've got nothing to worry about." It was true, I realized. His name had been among the first I'd listed. Rodney waved a part of a sandwich in the vague direction of the rest of the people seated around us. "They're the ones who have to worry."

"So why are you here?" I couldn't resist asking. It was vicious of me, perhaps, but I really wanted to know. There had to be some ulterior motive to this – arrogant, unkind people did tend to have that sort of thing. "Look – don't tell me that stuff about looking lonely. I appreciate it and all, but I've heard quite a few things about your personality, McKay. I doubt you're here looking for friendship."

"I…" it was one of the first times I'd ever seen him speechless. I'd only been in contact with him during meetings and whatnot, but he'd always stuck me as a man that always had something to say. "What did you hear?"

"You're a jerk," I replied simply, and sighed. "Actually, it was more along the lines of a pompous, stuck up, arrogant bully, who cares about no one but himself, but…" I stopped immediately, caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. If I didn't know better, I would've thought it was almost…pained. It was gone in a flash of a second, and it was then that I realized how much of an idiot I was being. I had been believing rumors and letting them control my image of this man instead of making an opinion myself. I can see why they'd call him the things they do: I've seen that side of him myself. But now it seems more like it is: a side of him, just one side. That look in his eyes; there's no faking that. Maybe it's buried deep inside him, but somewhere he has a heart. And I'll find it. I owe that much, at least.

"I'm sorry," I said, cutting him off before he could reply. "I'm just a little tense right now; the expedition and all."

"Understandable," he responded, snapping back to normal, his back upright.

"I need some time away from people," I gestured toward the people around us with my fork, "Get my bearings back. Maybe it's just me, but I can only handle people in small amounts." There was understanding in his eyes, but it was shadowed by something else, something indefinable.

"That's fine," he dismissed, "Some other time, then," he mumbled as I stood, saying the words with certainty that there wouldn't be an 'other time'. I had an odd feeling that he was used to being rejected: whether it was the romantic sort or just the friendly sort.

I smiled hesitantly. "Actually… I was wondering if you wanted to come with. There's a balcony outside my office…" I offered. "Not many people know about it, so it's pretty peaceful."

"Are you…are you sure?" he questioned, and in that moment he seemed vulnerable. I nodded in reply, and he stood, gathering his tray. "People will talk, you know," he informed me. I cast a glance around the room and then returned my gaze to him and shrugged.

"Let them talk. It'll just give them more reason to think I'm an inadequate leader," I told him. I'd meant to make it a joke, but the laughter died in my throat.

"If it's worth anything, I think you're doing a good job," Rodney said softly as we headed through the mess of people to the doors.

"Thanks," I said, smiling although his eyes were focused in the vicinity of the floor. "It does mean a lot." There was a small silence as we continued to work our way through the throngs of people. A few eyes settled on us; wondering why we were leaving with our food. A hungry curiosity lit their eyes, and I sighed, exasperated. My life isn't their business. When will they learn that?

Maybe Rodney sensed what I was thinking, because he slipped his free arm around my waist; comfortably, protectively. I glanced at him and relaxed when he winked at me. He was just getting them even more riled up. I laid my head against his shoulder and quickly realized how comfortable it was.

You'd never guess how close of a friendship that mischief can create.


End file.
